


The Three Times Tony Stark Showed Weakness (and the one time he didn’t.)

by orphan_account



Series: The Ghost Of You [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War AU, Hurt No Comfort, LITERALLY, M/M, So much angst, Stony - Freeform, Warning suicide, angst angst angst, but can be read as one shot, i am so depressed right now, if tony gave up hurting cap, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark dislikes showing weaknesses to other people, even the ones closest to him.</p><p>The three times he shows weakness is to Steve Rogers.</p><p>And those are the only three times.</p><p>Part of a series but can be read as a one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Times Tony Stark Showed Weakness (and the one time he didn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to apologise for just how depressing this is. Again, I am sorry.
> 
> Steve's POV: Three Times Tony Stark Showed Captain America He Was Human (and the one time he could not care anymore.)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at lotriddles

Tony Stark stares at the mess he has created, a tangle of wires and coding, and all he can think of is how badly he has fucked up.

“Tony?”

He turns around and is surprised to see Steve Rogers come into the room, his eyes worried and overcast. “Hey, Tony. You okay?”

Tony turns back to his mess. “Not really,” he chokes, and Ultron runs through his veins like blood, and wormholes swim over his vision. “Why was the Avenger’s alarm sounded?” Tony asks, a hand clutching at his chest.

Steve shrugs. “Minor alien attack, just up northwest. Wanda and Pietro are dealt with it- they were the first on scene.”

Tony nods, and laughs almost hysterically. “Aliens. Again. Are all aliens hostile? I watched Doctor Who. Aliens? Aliens. It is always aliens, of course. Fucking aliens.”

Steve looks over him worriedly. “Tony?”

There is a sudden pain on the back of Tony’s head, and he realises he has fallen to the ground. Tony’s legs are wrecked with spasms, and he struggles to breathe. He feels a hand on his face, calloused and rough, and he looks up to the blue eyes of Steve. Colours are starting to mix around and mash into one another, but his eyes stay constant, blue as the sea.

Tony doesn’t remember falling on the floor, should he be worried? No, course not. He should be more worried about showing weakness to Captain America, of all people.

“Shh,” Steve says, and sits cross-legged on the floor next to him. He pulls the jittering Tony into his lap and holds him tightly. “Take deep breaths, Tony. You’re doing fantastic.”

Tony’s hands clench and unclench on Steve’s shirt, the crispness of the button shirt already getting wrinkled by his frantic hands. “That’s it,” says Steve, encouragingly. “Relax.”

Tony can hear Steve’s heartbeat, its beat is steady and rhythmic, and Tony quietens down to the sound of the steady beat. It is like a drum, and it is almost criminal the way it calms him down and soothes him. Steve hugs like a teddy bear and smells like an art gallery, and Tony buries his head in the crook of Steve’s neck and stays there, for once remarkably unconcerned about his blatant show of weakness.

**XxX**

 There is a glass of whiskey in one hand, and it shakes. His hands are shaking, no surprise there. Of course they would shake, if one hand carried a glass of the finest whiskey in America, and the other carried a fully loaded Glock.

He puts the gun in his mouth, slowly, and he can feel the ridges of the gun and taste the metal, grimy and sharp. The safety is off the gun, and any moment he could just- he could just shoot himself, and be done with everything. Everything that was going on with Steve Rogers; everything that was going on with Ultron. He could just end it, end it all. It would almost be a relief.

Still, he hesitates. Why? Because he is too damned weak to press the trigger and blow his head off. Years of war and turmoil and guns have not prepared him for actual death. He can almost feel his death impending, and he can practically feel the weight of his soul. And it is fucking heavy.

He takes the gun out of his mouth and takes a long draught of whiskey, and then puts it back in. His hand wavers on the trigger, and he’s just about to pull it when the door breaks down and Steve Rogers tumbles inside, a mountain of anger and hurt, and the next thing Tony Stark knows is he is being shoved up against the wall, the gun falling from his mouth and the glass shattering on the floor.

He is almost relieved, and then mentally slaps himself for feeling relieved.

“Tony-” Steve gasps. “Tony, fucking hell, don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Why? It is not like anyone would miss me,” Tony says, and means it. He looks at Steve with empty eyes. “No one needs Iron Man anymore.”

Steve glares at him, his blue eyes almost watery. “I do. I need you. I need you to be alive and to come downstairs with fire in your eyes and power in your hands. I need you to come to me, at night, with a piece of technology which you proceed to describe in detail, and I listen because you love it so much it is worth it to hear the joy in your voice and the lilt in your walk.”

Tony looks at him. “You need me?”

Steve looks at him seriously, his hands moving from pinning Tony’s arms above his head to his waist, and he pulls Tony against him slowly. “I always need you,” he says, and Tony believes him. “Don’t you ever go away.”

**XxX**

Fire raged all around them. It burned and it consumed and Tony’s beard was singed. He couldn’t breathe, and his suit was compromised.

“Please,” Tony says, and his voice catches on the last word. “Please stay down, Cap. I can’t- I don’t want to hit you anymore. Please just- please.”

How did it come to this? What happened? What changed?

Steve looks at him with fire in his eyes and power in his hands, and Tony hates it, hates him, and hates the world.  He stands up painfully, his right eye swollen, bleeding from multiple wounds, sporting a broken nose and a split lip, and stares him down. “I can do this all day.”

Tony feels his heart break. He readies for the final punch, and then falters. “I can’t.”

Steve stares at him, unfeelingly. “God-  I can’t hit you anymore, okay? I am a fucking loser. Let it be known to the world,” he practically sobs. “Tony Stark lost because he couldn’t hit Captain America again.”

Steve grinds his teeth. “Finish the mission, Stark.”

Tony looks at him. “Do you remember when you complained that you could hardly see the stars, so we went camping together, in the middle of nowhere?”

Steve bites his lip.

“I loved it so much. I loved you so much, and now- now this is what I have been building up to? I can’t hit you anymore, Steve,” Tony steps out of the suit, dry-sobbing, and his anger is hard and cold and dry.  “What now?”

“Now?” Steve asks, his voice tight. “You lied to me. You said you weren’t funding, weren’t working for the opposition. You lied to me, Tony Stark. So now, I am going to beat you bloody.”

Tony welcomes it, welcomes the feeling of shame and weakness, and he welcomes the feeling of his nose breaking and his bones breaking and the pain. He relishes the feeling of his broken ribs, and finally, he enjoys the darkness that swallows him up.

**OoO**

Tony Stark sits in a jail cell, six months after Steve Rogers nearly beat him to death. He holds a revolver in his hands and sits, waiting, for Steve to turn up.

The bars are pulled aside roughly, and Steve charges in. He stops when he sees the dead guard and the revolver. “Tony- what are you doing?”

Tony angles the gun at him and fires, and the bullet pierces a network of nerves, and Steve falls to the ground. He cannot move.

Tony looks at him sorrowfully. “Don’t bother trying to move,” he says, as an introductory. “I have five more minutes till SWAT arrives, so listen up, Steve.”

“I have been weak, all my life,” he begins, and Steve watches in mute horror. “I hesitated the last time. I won’t again.”

“I meant it when I said I couldn’ t hurt you. I really did. I didn’t mean to lie to you-  but I really didn’t agree. Was it worth all of this, Steve?” He gestures to his prison uniform and his useless right leg, from where Steve had accidentally (or not) paralysed him. “Was it?”

Steve can feel the serum kicking in, and his hands twitch. “Tony- don’t do it.”

Tony looks on over at him as he places the gun in his mouth. “You don’t need me anymore,” he smiles slightly.  “This time, I am not going to be weak.”

The bang the gun makes is muted by a roar of agony.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Fire and The Flood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5898463) by [imafriendlydalek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek)




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